One night in the bath, my five-year-old son poked at his testicles. "What are these things called again?"
"They're called testicles, but sometimes people call them balls," I said.
He seemed momentarily satisfied, but the next night, on the toilet, he returned to the subject.
"These tentacles..." he started.
"Testicles," he repeated. "What are they for?"
We've always talked about bodies and used correct language for anatomy. But this conversation felt different. Waylon's questions were self-initiated and specific. After offering a hastily constructed answer, I consulted my parenting books. They counseled me to offer my child correct, technical, and honest information and to avoid overwhelming him with any information that wasn't age-appropriate and that he didn't need to know yet.
Sure, that sounds easy. Just like walking a tightrope. My son has the disposition of an attorney. His favorite questions are "Why?" and "What about...?"
I thought it would make things easier to keep the conversation factual and age-appropriate if I had some nice, feminist, LGBT-affirming book for talking to kids about their bodies. So I did the laziest thing in the world. I went to Amazon.com and searched for children's books about sexuality.
My first search turned up several books from Concordia's Learning About Sex for the Christian Family series and books from Navpress's God's Design for Sex series. These books featured dialogue like this line from Where Do Babies Come From?:
"It was God who thought of putting us into families," Daddy said. "Wasn't it a good idea?"
Christians, I realized, have been busy imagining the needs of parents and families and thinking about ways to meet those needs while simultaneously operationalizing their values about gender, sexuality, and the family.
But gender, sexuality, and the family are equally important and contested terrain for feminists. Critiques of patriarchal families and reproductive sexuality have been a feminist staple since the 19th century. Surely, I thought, some feminist authors have penned children's books about bodies and sexuality that operationalize feminist values for parents and kids.
Scrolling through the secular offerings on Amazon, I found my way to, What's the Big Secret? by Laurie Krasny Brown and Marc Brown. School Library Journal calls this book "the gold standard for sex ed for young children." I ordered a copy and read the first sentence with high hopes.
"From the moment your life begins, you are either a boy or a girl."
Hmm. My partner, Katy--Waylon's other Mommy--identifies as somewhere in the middle of gender. Waylon has grown up in a feminist, genderqueer community. He has aunties and uncles and auntie-uncles with multiple gender identities. The kid is a bigger critic of binary gender paradigms than most adults. (I've been trying to teach him old protest songs like "If I Had a Hammer," but he won't let me sing the line about "love between the brothers and the sisters" without throwing in a couple of other identities to make it more inclusive.)
To be fair, What's the Big Secret? does spend several pages deconstructing gendered ideas about children's play, clothing, and emotions. Ultimately, however, the book locates differences between boys and girls firmly in biology:
"Actually, the only sure way to tell boys and girls apart is by their bodies."
And, like a lot of the secular children's books I looked at, What's the Big Secret? explains binary gender as natural and necessary to reproduction. In fact, the section called "Why Boys and Girls Differ" is subtitled "A Little Lesson in Reproduction."
I knew this book was not going to work for my queer family (we made Waylon with a friend, a plastic syringe, and a Mason jar). And it probably wouldn't work for other LGBTQ families either. Moreover, as a queer feminist dedicated to questioning biological narratives about the naturalness of gender and reproduction, I was hoping for something more.
At the very least, I was hoping for a children's book about bodies that didn't assume heterosexual reproduction as the alpha and omega. Was that too much to ask?
The time had come to do something slightly less lazy. I visited my local feminist bookstore, Bookwoman.
At Bookwoman, I found several copies of A Very Touching Book by Jan Hindman. Written from the perspective of preventing sexual abuse, this book has several things to recommend it. It's body and sex positive. Using touch as the central concept, the book leads children through decision-making processes about good and bad touching. In the process, it discusses physical attributes without resorting to reproduction as the ultimate explanation.
In fact, A Very Touching Book does not reference reproductive sex at all. Rather than explaining adult sexuality as a function of reproduction, Hindman (who passed away in 2007) defines adult sexuality in terms of safety, pleasure, and informed decision-making:
"The second reason that the sharing of those parts is such a big deal is that grown-ups need to spend a lot of time thinking about who the special person will be that they decide to share their bodies with."
Throughout the book's discussion of adult sexuality, Hindman uses gender-neutral language. In the text and the pictures, heterosexuality is not assumed. With a few slight adaptations, this book could work for my family.
There are, however, a few things I don't love about A Very Touching Book. The illustrations are distractingly busy. The jokes are cheesey. And Hindman sometimes illustrates her points with longish analogies (like the one comparing private parts to Christmas) that detract from the main point.
Although I don't expect to find the perfect book, I was curious whether other feminist writers had addressed the need for children's books about bodies and sexuality. In keeping with my lazy mode of inquiry, I decided to have lunch with a feminist librarian. So I made a date with Dr. Kristen Hogan, an expert on women's bookstores and feminist publishing.
The woman brought a bibliography to our lunch date. I really, really love that.
Kris's book list, which I will reproduce below, helped me see that feminist authors and presses are producing books about bodies and sexuality for young people. However, the majority of these books were for children approaching puberty. In the category of books for young children, Kris suggested the book I'd found at Bookwoman, A Very Touching Book, and a book about sexual abuse, Not in Room 204.
Sweet Secrets: Stories of Menstruation
Kathleen O'Grady and Paula Wansbrough
Second Story Press, 1997
Growing Up: It's a Girl Thing: Straight Talk about First Bras, First Periods, and Your Changing Body
Mavis Jukes and Debbie Tilley
Knopf Books for Young Readers, 1998
On Your Mark, Get Set, Grow!: A 'What's Happening to My Body?' Book for Younger Boys
Newmarket Press, 2008
My Body, My Self for Boys
Newmarket Press, 2007
Not In Room 204
Shannon Riggs and Jaime Zollars
Albert Whitman & Co., 2007
Your Body Belongs to You
Cornelia Maude Spelman and Teri Weidner
Albert Whitman & Co., 2003
Changing Bodies, Changing Lives
Three Rivers Press, 1998
I'm still thinking about why children's books about bodies and sexuality have been such productive terrain for religious conservatives and (seemingly) neglected terrain for feminists. I suspect it comes back to what's viable in the publishing industry. In the introduction to Harmful to Minors: the Perils of Protecting Children from Sex, Judith Levine talks about her struggles to publish an adult book about cultural anxieties surrounding children's sexuality. In the arena of children's publishing, narratives about reproductive families and child protection function to contain discomfort about children's sexuality.
Although we never found the perfect book, I think my partner and I are managing to answer my son's questions about his body through improvisation, recurring dialogue, and a mish-mash of the available resources. But the lazy part of me still hopes that feminist, queer-affirming, sex-positive children's writers will add more and more options to the available resources.
*Cross-posted at feministsforchoice.com